


Le Héros d'un Autre - Victuuri Week Day Three

by CuchyLainx



Series: Victuuri Week 2017 [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, also there are fights and blood, day three, i am too dramatic, they are superheroes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuchyLainx/pseuds/CuchyLainx
Summary: Superheroes are beings of great powers. They have the ability to save the planet, to keep lives from being crushed by the forces of evil.But as they fight against the legendary enemies of mankind, can they save their own existences from the throes of darkness?In which the most dangerous and powerful being may not be the most evident one – or how it takes another hero to help fend off the shadows of the soul.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is Day Three! I spend hours writing these works after college and barely post them before midnight, but it's just so fun, I don't want the Victuuri week to stop. 
> 
> I'm so embarassed because the summary is super dramatic haha... Also this week has been a strain on my English vocabulary - that's when you really see the limits of what you've learned!
> 
> Anyway, here are the songs I listened to while writing this work:
> 
> Simple Plan – Simple Plan (2008 album) // Victoria Petrosillo – Le héros d’un autre

My name’s Victor Nikiforov. I’m tall, handsome, and Russian. My eyes are of an incredibly attractive blue. My hair is silver – born like that, never going to dye it. I love discovering new people and new countries. My favorite things in the world include ice-skating, great food and my adorable poodle, Makkachin. I have been working as a choreographer for three years.

And I’m a superhero.

 

Superheroes used not to be common things, my mother told me. Before, the world was a safer place – a bit less enchanted, sure, but safer nonetheless. No megalomaniac supervillains ever tried to overthrow the governments, no crazy cold-hearted beings attacked civilians just “because they could”.

A simpler time, she would say, stroking my hair affectionately.

My powers started to show very early. I was having a nightmare, and the last thing my parents knew, my room got covered in a strange and solid substance, very slippery. They thought it was ice, at first – but as it did not melt, and did not exude cold, they had been forced to admit that the heater was still working fine and that their son definitely was not a regular human being.

Since then, I have learned to control this power of mine. I grew strong, and fast. The substance I could create by the sheer force of my will became thicker, more refined. I learned to build precise paths with it, paths on which I ran and slid at an incredible speed. I practiced making it so thin I could see through it, but so solid even a bullet could not shatter it. I became able to jump highly through the air, coming down graciously, supported by millions of tiny bubbles of “incky” (the name I gave to my production).

The possibilities were endless. I could extinguish a fire just by projecting incky on the flames. I could secure falling bridges, stop collisions between trains, and restrain violent villains in massive incky bubbles.   

 

I used to get bullied at school for my silver hair and my feminine looks – but after a while, the sneers stopped, replaced by whispers and awed looks. I began being called for help by citizens. The government offered me a financing program. I started being recognized in the streets, people would send me presents.

Life was pretty good, I admit. I could have easily stopped going to class or even, later, working, but instead I chose to leisurely do a job I really loved, not afraid of taking time to choreograph _just_ what I wanted – my other activities would cover all my expenses anyway.

 

My feelings started to change after a series of fights against several villains, all working together. I had not been the only superhero dedicated to the task – but I _have_ been the one to terminate six of them. I knew I had been working for the greater good, that it was one life against hundreds, but it still was a harsh action.

The last fight took place in Tokyo. A grandiose city, one I had longed to visit. People were screaming in fear before the thirty meters tall monster menacing them. Flames were burning in its mouth and each of its steps was a threat to the lives of the Japanese citizens. My job had been to protect those under its mammoth feet. A swarm of villains were surrounding their creature, ready to wreak havoc on the streets.  

It was the most violent fight I ever took part in. Blood was pouring from everywhere. Crowds were running, shouting, hiding under cars. I kept throwing incky weapons at my opponents – my favorite and most reliable method was to conjure incky inside of them, and then form a bubble with it. It was swift and radical. I was desperate to end the fight as soon as possible – civilians were dying, the number of victims already seemed way too high to me.

I had to set myself loose. Become a flood of pure power. Not think anymore.

From the moment I decided to let my power explode, the fight turned in our favor. My eyes were glowing, my long hair seemed alive around me. I shifted so quickly I seemed to be flying. Dozens of people shattered before me, while I threw waves after waves of incky at the monster, finally stopping its course. One of my side-kicks, Christophe Giacometti, unleashed a deluge of flames at the titan, which skin detached from its bones. With a conjugated effort, several heroes ended up cutting its head, putting an end to its unnatural existence.

The spectacle was horrible. We looked so terrifying – heroes or villains could not be set apart anymore except for their outfits.

And then it was over, and the monster head was neatly put on the ground next to the hundreds of restraint attackers. My wilderness wouldn’t abate, however, and I kept jumping from one incky construction to another, surveilling for remaining survivors or enemies.

That’s when I came across the most beautiful, artful and _out of place_ thing ever.

Next to a broken lamppost, a little child was sitting, bellowing in fear, their cheeks covered with big, fat tears, while they were clutching a battered school bag. Something tugged in my chest, and I reduced my speed, ready to comfort them. However, as I started making my way toward them, they shouted in fear and cowered, hiding behind their bag.

I was going to _try_ explaining who I was, but a man beat me to it. Dressed in an elegant dark blue superhero suit, he knelt in front of the child, cooing all the while.

 

“Hey, hey, now, look at me, look at me. It’s over, it’s over. Look at what I can do, isn’t it pretty?”

 

While he talked, the man moved his hands, forcing glitter out of his fingers. The child immediately stopped shivering, fixated on the patterns the glitter was sketching in the air. I could faintly hear the music and the sweet smell it generated. Startled, I recognized an ice-skater dancing, laughing and jumping. His red and gold suit complimented his dark skin, and the friendly love emanating from the illusion made my throat close up.

 

“Victor is not evil, see? He stopped shining. He won’t hurt you.” the stranger reassured the child. “Ah, isn’t that skater magnificent? How about I give him a friend?”

 

I could not, for the life of me, look away from the lovely image, on which another skater, closely resembling the man himself, positively glowed on the ice. I was filled with so many perceptions at the same time – the image seemed to create a sugar-like taste in my mouth, and the colors sang to me.

Who was this man? What was his power? How could he stop the beast inside me so easily, just by a flicker of the wrist?  

 

As it turned out, I was not able to get his name, nor his contact info, on this day. The fight was over, and I was called for a recap with the authorities. As for the man, he ended up taking the child in his arms and walking away.

Back in Russia, however, I did not lose any time looking for him. He had an official suit, which meant he must have been appointed to the fight by the UN authorities – and that meant he necessarily had been recorded on the operation.

When I found him, I couldn’t help but chuckle. He was listed under the “after care/support/defense” section, with a succinct description of his power.

_Psychological power. Ability to make people experience synesthesia. People are forced to watch the illusion until the subject decides to stop using his power. No particular restraint._

 

The taste of his mind still lingered on my tongue, the music of his power still resonated in my ears. He had utterly bewitched me.

I had to find him back.

 

* * *

 

My name is Katsuki Yuuri. I am twenty-three years old. I was born a superhero, but my power is not much – I can only make people see some things long enough to calm them down and escort them to secure places during fights. My favorite place to be is in the rink near my home – the cold calms me.  I love eating katsudon.

And a few months ago, one of the most powerful superhero in this world came barreling into my tranquil, well-established life.

 

When Victor appeared in my parent’s onsen, with his charming smile and luscious long silver hair, I thought that: one, maybe I had drunk too much during dinner and was having a stroke; two, surely my power finally got so out of control that I managed to fool even myself with my wistful desires.

It turned out Victor had just been charmed by my work as support in the Gigantic fight of Tokyo, in which he had almost single-handedly saved the city from a sure destruction.

 

_“Mesmerized, I was mesmerized by your power, Yuuri, so beautiful!”_

 

Since then, he had insisted on sharing my everyday life, jumping on all the possible occasions to ask me to use my power on him. In exchange, he promised to choreograph me something simple to skate to.

Truthfully, I was starting to run out of ideas to entertain him. Victor especially liked when I poured music in the movements of the characters I made him see – characters that were, most of the time, at his demands, either me, or him, or his dog, or his protégé, or his best friend… I started to create a tiny story in which we were all surprisingly talented ice-skaters. For some reason, this delighted him.

Victor was a lot to take in. I had followed his exploits years after years, blown away each time by his splendor and his strength. Compared to me, lumpy and weighty Katsuki Yuuri, he had been a far-off mirage, glimmering and haunting my childhood – and adolescent – dreams.

And still, he seemed so…normal. He liked rolling around on the floor with his gigantic dog. He would challenge my former ballet-instructor Minako-sensei to drinking contests. He dragged me to all these events, festivals, concerts, or just walks on the beach on an everyday basis. He looked at me like I was brightening his day just by confusing his mind with my illusions.

 

After a while, I had to admit I was helplessly falling in love with the man. I found myself leaning on him, accepting his hugs and caresses. We could talk for hours, or just sit in companionable silence, him choreographing, me playing video games or catching on my best friend’s life an ocean away.

My heart would hurt when he would eventually decide to go back to Russia.

Despite what it may have seemed like, though, I did work a real job in Japan. My power gave me some opportunities which I gladly took after completing university since I had no real idea of what I wanted to do of my life. I was currently employed in several hospitals of the region, in which I would visit bedridden or dying patients. Using my power, I would make them experience what they wanted to see or what could make them smile. As several doctors explained to me, making the patients feel good, even for a few minutes, could tremendously help their recovery – or their passing, I suppose.  

At first, Victor didn’t really notice my work. He just assumed that, several days in the week, I left the onsen to do god-knows-what out of town, while he visited the town and close touristic attractions.

But when he learnt about it, his eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears, and he held me tight for a solid minute.

 

“You are _so_ beautiful, Yuuri. The most beautiful person I ever met.”

 

After that, he insisted on coming with me each time, even if he was not always allowed to follow me in the patients’ rooms, and even if I protested – what appeal could a dozen of visits a day in a hospital have to him? - he still came. 

He stayed by my side, faithfully, and weeks started to turn into months as we steadily grew closer and fell even more in love with each other.

 

* * *

 

Living with Yuuri was the best thing ever. I could spend all my time just playing with my Makkachin and my new favorite person if I wanted to. I had fun learning Japanese and eating Yuuri’s parents’ otherworldly dishes. Every person surrounding him seemed gentle, compassionate, and filled with love for this unassuming boy.

But as I felt myself slip into the tender embrace of love, I started to worry.

I started to worry because Yuuri was, obviously, a gift of God to humanity. His kind face, his warm eyes, his dedication, made him the most loveable creature ever. Oh, he did have his faults, of course – such as an amusing pettiness and an infuriating tendency to put his own self down – but it made me appreciate him even more. He was remarkably human.

In other words, he was everything I had started not to be after the beginning of the Gigantic fights. Each night I would hold him in my arms and remember the faces of the people I had killed. Each day I would watch him enchanting suffering patients and be reminded of the looks of terror on civilians’ faces when I faced them after a fight.

I was terrified. It was clear Yuuri loved me back, he made no secret of it, but I couldn’t shake the fear that soon he would realize I was far from being good enough for him and leave me for someone worthy of his defining benevolence. It made me jealous – it made me clingy.

The cat finally got out his bag one day Yuuri went out – without me – and I snapped. We were both shocked at my outburst, but he was the first to get angry.

 

“I don’t need your permission to go out, Victor!”

 

And I, of course, instead of behaving like a sensible human being, instead of apologizing for my shitty behavior, just crossed my arms and sneered:

 

“I don’t even know  _where_ you went. Or with _who_.”

“Why does that matter to you? I still have a life on my own, you know?!”

 

A life on his own. Potentially a life without me. Even if it was true, it hurt so much to hear it. 

 

“Alright, so if you “still have a life on your own”, I guess I’m not much needed around here, right? I could just go back to Russia, take back my vigilante work there and live MY life, while you could find someone else, uh? That’s what you want, right!“

 

I had shouted, and he recoiled slightly from me, his eyes wide. The silence between us grew thick, until his breath hitched. Horrified, I watched his eyes cloud, full of ache. Oh no no no no…

 

“Why are you like this, Victor?” he whispered, sitting on the bed. “Did I ever…you know I don’t want you to go!”

 

He sounded sad and angry at the same time. My next words flew out of my mouth, unrestrained and wounded.

 

“You should, though. I am nothing good for you.”

 

He choked, curling on himself, his face down.

 

“Weren’t you happy, here, Victor? Didn’t you see…why do you want to make that choice for me? I constantly feel like you want me to… You come close to me, and the moment after I swear I can feel you’re the most distant you've ever been, but, Victor, that _doesn’t_ make sense…”

 

Then, after a moment of pained silence, he shattered me.

 

“Is it because of me?”

 

I rushed to him, falling on my knees, my arms around his waist. We stood still. After a moment, I started to whisper in his soft stomach, hiding my eyes.

 

“I am nothing like you, Yuuri. You…you help people. You bring magic and happiness in their lives. Me? Me... I just…I just destroy. I destroy what threaten them, but still…there is this part of me, each time I fight, which is violent and dark, and there is nothing, _nothing_ like this in you, oh, Yuuri… You are much too radiant for me.”

 

And Yuuri starts to laugh. Really hard. So hard I begin to worry he would choke. As I try to disentangle myself from him, he pushes me against his stomach again.

 

“Radiant, me?” he mumbles, digging his fingers in my shoulders. “You don’t know what I am capable of. What do you all think? That I can only make people look at butterflies and listen to lullabies while they feel honey glide on their tongues? If I can do that, then obviously I can make the _exact_ opposite.”

 

He pauses for a moment, seemingly reflecting on something.

 

“Do you want to experience that, Victor? Will it convince you I’m no better than any other skilled person? Do you want to know how it feels to be unable to look away from your worst nightmare, to suffer as if you were thrown into flames, to be forced to listen to the strident sounds of alarms, or all of that at the same time?”

 

I can feel warm drops falling on the thinning crown of my hair.

 

“What make people become villains, Victor? What do you think? It’s all a matter of choice. When I was a child, some kids were afraid of me. Very afraid. Just because they refused to give me a lollipop, or because they pushed me a bit to forcefully while playing. The only reason I did end up okay is because my own mother is skilled, even if she doesn’t suspect it. However hard I tried to subdue her, she would keep smiling at me and loving me. And so I believed adults were immune to me, and learned to be decent.”

 

Yuuri’s voice is very quiet. His hands are toying with my long hair, vaguely braiding them. It feels nice.

 

“What is the real extent of your power, Yuuri?”

 

He sighs. His thighs close around me, keeping me grounded.

 

“I can target several people at the same time. I tried, once, just a tiny illusion – about a hundred people were affected. And…” he hesitates, searching for words. “I can make people lose their minds. I am quite sure of it. I never pushed it that far, but there is no real time-limit to the illusions I can create. I could keep torturing people for hours before needing to rest.”

 

He bends over me, laying his wet cheek on my head. I embrace him tighter.

 

“Out of the two of us, who’s the real monster, Victor?” he brokenly asks.

“I’ll tell you what. Let’s get better together. Let’s make the choice, again and again, to be heroes.”

“Is that what you really want, Victor? It’s a life-long commitment, you know…” he answers, a hint of tease in his tired voice.

 

I smile blindly in his shirt. Life-long sounds so good, when it comes to Yuuri.

 

“I’m positive I’ll never get tired of that battle, Yuuri…my love.”

 

* * *

 

Our names are Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri. We are respectively twenty-eight and twenty-four years old. We love to travel between Russia and Japan, flaunting our engagement rings at our fellow vigilantes and spending time with our loving families. We dedicate ourselves to a life of choices and fights.

And we will be superheroes, for as long as we stay together.

**Author's Note:**

> PS: The work title means "Another person's hero" but it sounds so much better in French haha. I recommend you listen the song which shares the same title, it was the opening of the series Heroes (still one of my favorite so far).
> 
> Ah, I really love superheroes! I hoped you enjoyed this work ^.^ !


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